


Different Kind of Love

by Creme13rulee



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Baby Names, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, M/M, Mpreg, Viktor is a doting alpha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 20:19:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17107454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creme13rulee/pseuds/Creme13rulee
Summary: Viktor is a very doting Alpha. Even if he doesn't notice Yuuri's pregnancy first, he makes sure that Yuuri knows that he's there for him no matter what.





	Different Kind of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SilentAvera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentAvera/gifts).



“Viktor,” Yuuri laughed. Viktor was normally a clingy man, but lately he had ramped it up another ten degrees.  “It’s hard to look when you’re being so protective,” Yuuri didn’t make a move to pull out of Viktor’s arms, resigning himself to looking at the christmas market stalls from a distance.

 

“There’s… a lot of alphas here?” Viktor frowned at the realization. The idea of one even bumping into his mate made his blood boil.

 

“There is at the rink too, but you let me walk on my own there.” Yuuri murmured, resting his hands on  one of Viktor’s arms looped around his shoulders. Yuuri held his breath , before releasing a slow cloud into the cold air.

 

“That’s different. We know them.” Viktor pouted. He buried his nose in Yuuri’s hair, drinking in his scent.

 

“No one’s even looking at me.”  Yuuri slid his foot forward on the icy cobblestone path, inching toward the next booth.

 

“Because you’re mine.” Viktor followed, keeping his arms octopused around Yuuri.

 

“Or they don’t want to fight an alpha that won’t let their omega walk,” Yuuri muttered. Viktor immediately let go, but not without wrapping his gloved hand over Yuuri’s.

 

“Look, Vitya.” Yuuri smiled, pulling him toward a booth lit up with blue red and green lights. Glass spun ornaments hung from strings at all levels, painted in intricate designs that reminded Viktor of his childhood. Yuuri’s eyes sparkled as he took in each ornament, the light casting magic on his flushed cheeks and pink nose. Viktor fell even more in love.

 

_ “Congratulations, you two. _ ” The grandmother tending to the booth smiled from her seat behind the floating glass spheres. She was wrapped up in several coats as well as a quilt.

 

Yuuri looked up at Viktor questioningly. Her accent was too thick and her Russian too quick to parse even with his two years of being immersed in it.

 

“ _ Pardon _ ?” Viktor smiled politely. 

 

The grandmother raised a mitten hand, waving it in a wide circle at Yuuri. “ _ Don’t act stupid boy. Everyone in St. Petersburg can tell you put your omega with child. _ ”

 

“Vitya. Why did she call you stupid?” Yuuri blinked, catching the one word he almost always heard at the rink. Viktor didn’t reply. Yuuri turned, tearing his eyes away from the ornaments to look up at his alpha.  His blue eyes were wide, his cheeks red and jaw slack.

 

“ _ Baby. _ ” The woman repeated, her voice louder and stretching out the word. She patted her stomach for emphasis, before pointing directly at Yuuri’s. “ _ Congratulations _ .”

 

Yuuri turned red to the tips of his ears, subconsciously curling around his middle. 

 

“Thank you! We have to go now!” Viktor sang, tugging Yuuri toward the pharmacy at the end of the boulevard.

 

“Wait! Go where?” Yuuri dug in his heels, twisting his hand out of Viktor’s.

 

“To the store. We need to get a test!”

 

“Vitya, it’s been like, months since your last rut.”

 

“You already forgot Trophee de France?” Viktor tried to sound insulted, but he was too excited.

 

“That was during competition, and was a bad idea--oh.”  Yuuri dropped his head, still red as Saint Nicholas under the smug gaze of the booth lady.

 

Viktor smiled. “Isn’t it romantic? It would be the best  birthday present ever.” Viktor hopped from foot to foot, letting Yuuri process it. Yuuri stood, fidgeting and staring down at his hands. God, he looked good in the wool coat and leather gloves Viktor bought him last season.

 

“I want an ornament.” Yuuri said, his tone firm and reminiscent of Yuuri’s eros persona demanding  Viktor to never take his eyes off him.

 

“Of course.” Viktor stuttered, pulling out his wallet, distracted by the lights playing on Yuuri’s face. Yuuri took his time selecting one, studying each one before selecting a white pearl glass ball with gzhel-style blue snowflakes and curlicues painted on it. 

The woman wrapped it up, setting it in a simple paper bag, before shoving Viktor’s hand back when he made to hand over rubles. She patted his hand, handing the ornament to Yuuri.

 

“S-spasibo,” Yuuri stuttered, bowing. It was another Yuuri-ism that Viktor loved. Yuuri followed willingly that time, Viktor walking as fast as the frost on the ground would allow.  He strode quickly through the drug store aisles, searching for the birth control aisle. He’d never expected to need it, but he knew that was where the tests were.

 

“V-vitya, you only need one.” Yuuri stuttered after Viktor swept the entire stock of  omega-based tests into his handbasket.

 

“Just to be sure!” Viktor sang, his heart-shaped smile wide. “Anything else, moya zvedza?” 

 

Yuuri muttered something unintelligible, but shook his head. “Let’s go home.”

The next morning , Viktor uploads a picture to Instagram. Ten pregnancy tests are neatly lined up on the living room floor. Makkachin curiously sniffs at one from the corner of the frame. Every single test is positive.

 

~

 

“No skating unless you eat, love.” Viktor sang, pressing the lip of the spoon to Yuuri’s bottom lip.  Yuri made yet another a retching noise from his table in the cafeteria.

 

“I’m trying,” Yuuri sighed, grimacing and taking the spoon into his mouth. His expression twists as his lips close around the room and Viktor slowly pulled it out.

 

“You don’t need another  baby, you already have one.” Yuri muttered. Trying to be bitter about it was getting harder the longer Yuuri was pregnant.  

 

He was just starting to show, a soft roundness to his belly just a fraction more than his usual off-season weight gain that Viktor loved to indulge Yuuri in.  After a three-day long fight, Viktor had relented and let Yuuri back in the rink. Viktor watched constantly, even though Yuuri had promised from the start that he wouldn’t  do any jumps or spins beyond a single. He spent most of his days tracing compulsory figures into the ice and watching Viktor land jumps and get yelled at by Yakov.

 

“If I see another mayo salad I’m going to throw up.” Yuuri frowned, pushing away his plate.

 

“I’ll hold your hair back for you,” Viktor cooed, turning to see what he could get on Uber eats before their lunch period ended.

 

“How romantic,” Georgi sighed.

  
  


“It’s not even that long.” Yuri rolled his eyes. 

 

“Are you jealous?” Viktor smiled, cat-like. Yuuri slouched into the table, resting his chin on his hands.

 

“Don’t be. I feel awful.” Yuuri mumbled. It was hard to be mad at him. Viktor was the one being sickeningly sweet and doting.  It was even rubbing off on Mila. Yuuri had watched Mila rub Yuuri’s back the other day, when Yuuri had retreated to the edge of the rink overcome with nausea. Yakov even lowered his volume when Yuuri was close by, and he no longer barked out his name. Yuuri had long since stopped flinching at Yakov’s voice, but he somehow decided he needed to be nice to Yuuri.  Only Yuuri.

 

It was going to be a long nine months.

 

~

“Yakov, please. He’s crying!” Viktor’s smile was strained and his grip on his phone was tight. 

 

“You can’t cancel a national interview because your husband is crying.” Yakov growled over the line.

 

“I’m fine, Viktor. Finish packing.” Yuuri sniffled. He picked at the fabric of one of Viktor’s sweaters.  Yuuri was wearing one, had another in his lap, along with the past week’s practice clothes picked out of the laundry and wrapped around him. He had a small nest on the bed, and the only thing that had made it into the suitcase were Viktor’s skates.

 

“It physically pains me, Yakov.” Viktor sighed.

 

“Bring your team  jersey.” Yakov snapped, before hanging up. Viktor smiled uneasily. Yuuri had slept in it every night for the last two weeks. Yuuri was wearing most of Viktor’s clothes. They fit over his stomach better than his own, but in another week even Viktor’s shirts wouldn’t do.

 

“It’s only one day,” Yuuri hiccuped, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. 

 

“I’ll buy a ticket for you.” Viktor clapped his hands. “We can go together.”

 

“We can’t leave M-makka,” Yuuri’s whole body jerked with a hiccup. “What if she thinks we abandoned her?” Yuuri’s voice rose in pitch before breaking. Makkachin wagged her tail, her chin resting on Yuuri’s thigh as he sat on their bed.

 

“We can bring her too. It’s a domestic flight.” Viktor sighed. He had two hours before the hired car would arrive. Time was ticking.

 

“Vitya.”  Yuuri hiccuped pitifully. Viktor crossed the room, kneeling at Yuuri’s feet.

 

“Up,” Yuuri bit out, poking Viktor’s stomach with his toes. Viktor grunted, his bad knee acting up as he crept up onto the bed.

 

Yuuri immediately curled into him, rolling onto his lap. He cupped Viktor’s hands on his, pressing Viktor’s wrist to his neck. 

 

“Are you scenting me?” Viktor laughed, the pain forgotten as Yuuri’s delicate wrists slid against the curve of his neck. “That’s my job.”

 

“Then do it.” Yuuri fell back onto the mess of clothing piled on the bed. Viktor paused, tracing the curve of Yuuri’s round stomach.

 

“You’re beautiful, Yuuri,” Viktor breathed. Even with red eyes and a dripping nose, he looked  delectable. 

 

“That’s hormones talking,” Yuuri sniffed, before smiling as Viktor crawled on top of him.  They both laughed when Makkachin jumped up and joined them, licking Yuuri’s palm.

 

“Get off, girl,” Viktor grunted. Makkachin only wagged her tail , kissing Viktor’s cheek.

 

“Good girl,” Yuuri laughed, scratching her ear.  

 

Viktor ended up taking every minute of the two hours, scrambling to pack his medals and anything else he’d need for his appearance as the car honked from the street below.

 

The interview was agonizing. At least during makeup and  practice, he was able to have his phone out. Yuuri sent constant photos, and the shot of Makkachin sleeping on his belly had nearly killed him. Viktor had tried his best, but by the time he was finished, Yuuri’s last text had been about taking a nap. 

 

The four walls of his hotel room were suffocating. Viktor forgot about dinner, using the last few hours of his day to go shopping. He found three new cashmere blankets, one of them in Yuuri’s favorite color. He picked out a new pregnancy pillow for Yuuri, even though the one he bought Yuuri often got shoved to the end of the bed by morning. He even found some maternity clothing Yuuri could wear. Despite St. Petersburg being a large city, male omega pregnancy remained rare in Russia, and Yuuri’s taste in clothing made it even harder. Viktor would not allow Yuuri in public in sweats, and it was hard to find jeans that fit Yuuri’s butt wonderfully and still  buttoned around his belly.

Viktor counted down the minutes until he would board the short flight home. He could count  on Yuuri waiting at baggage claim for him, but that was still too far.

 

“Vitya!” Yuuri laughed when the time finally came. “Did you do an interview or did you shop the whole time?” 

 

Viktor hadn’t sprung for a second suitcase, but the  seven extra shopping bags had still cost him a pretty penny in luggage fees.

 

“I had to,” Viktor hummed, holding Yuuri close. He ran his hands over the swell of Yuuri’s stomach. “I missed you,”.

 

Yuuri softened under his touch, tucking his head under Viktor’s chin. “I missed you too.” His breath caught in his throat.

 

“Ah. She’s kicking.” Yuuri breathed, his eyes widening slightly.

 

“Ah, I missed you too, rypka.” Viktor knelt down, pressing his hands to either side of Yuuri’s belly.

 

“Rypka?” Yuuri asked, his voice rising in tone before he sucked in a breath. “Oh, whatever it means, she likes it.

 

“Fishlet. Tiny fish.” Viktor can’t help but smile. His smile widened  at Yuuri’s incredulous look.

 

“Fish? You’re calling our baby a fish?” Yuuri squeaks indignantly.

 

“Yes. Is that bad, pupsik?”

 

Yuuri frowned and pulled out his phone, switching over to the cyrillic keyboard.

 

“Babycakes,  _ really?” _ Yuuri said a few seconds later. Viktor can only smile and offer a shrug. Yuuri rolled his eyes before sinking into Viktor’s lap, wrapping his arms around him.

 

“You’re ridiculous.” Yuuri murmured into Viktor’s shoulder.

 

“I know. Will you ever forgive me?” The stress of their time apart is immediately washed away.

 

“If you carry me back home,” Yuuri teased. It’s an impossible task, considering the amount of baggage Viktor has with him. But if there’s one thing Viktor likes, it’s surprising his audience.

 

“I’d carry you all the way to Hasetsu,” Viktor said with a flourish, sweeping Yuuri up into his arms. He danced into a stumble before finding his balance. Yuuri held onto Viktor with a death grip, only relaxing when they arrive at the hired-car station.

 

~

 

There is no way Viktor can say no to Yuuri. So when Yuuri mentions Hasetsu in passing, a soft longing on his face, Viktor books tickets. He updates Makkachin’s paperwork, because right now, no body pillow compares to the poodle. Yuuri has constructed a nest, taking the multiple cashmere blankets, their Duet outfits, Viktor’s team jacket and every piece of clothing he takes off within  a kilometer of Yuuri. It’s off season, and Viktor no longer trains. Yuuri’s ankles are too swollen to fit in his skates, and even if they did, Viktor’s not sure about how one could waddle on ice. Yuuri sleeps most of the day in the middle of the nest. Viktor makes sure to send money ahead to add more air conditioning units to their bedroom at Yuutopia. Even in the mild Russian summer, Yuuri has four fans centered on him at all times. He’s stopped wearing pants two  weeks ago, which Viktor admittedly enjoys.

 

The doorbell rings, and Viktor has to  extricate himself from Yuuri’s nest.

 

“Oh, thank god.” He sighed when he opens the door to Yuri. Viktor used to be able to go shopping whenever his mate has a new craving, but this week’s Yuuri is extra hormonal. He worries whenever Viktor goes further than five steps away. Viktor can’t help but to indulge him.

 

“The burger was 300 rubles.” Yuri said  blankly as Viktor handed over a 5000 ruble note.

“Take it,” Viktor breathed, taking the Mcdonalds bag. “Extra mayo, right?” He asked, his tone belying a life-or-death matter.

 

“Uh, yeah.”  Yuuri folded the bill into his pocket. “If Katsudon needs anything else…. Let me know.”

Viktor smiled, happy to see the soft side of his protege. “I will. We head to Hasetsu tomorrow.” 

 

Viktor crawls back into the nest. Yuuri barely opened his eyes, before closing them again and licking his lips.  Viktor feels his heart squeeze, unwrapping the burger and tearing off a bite size piece.

 

“You are doing such a good job,” Viktor hummed, holding the food to Yuuri’s lips and watching his teeth and rosy lips.  “Working so hard to make our little fish,” Viktor smooths Yuuri’s hair back from his cheekbone. It’s grown longer, softer and shinier too.

 

“Vitya,” Yuuri mumbled between bites, his voice warm and soft. “Before… before I have her..”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Before I change my mind.. I want to know…”

 

Viktor paused, his hand resting against Yuuri’s cheek.

 

“Do you want a big family?” Yuuri doesn’t look at Viktor when the question slipped from his lips.

 

“Do you?”

 

“I want.. More of you… and me. “ Yuuri nods, adding to his statement. 

 

Viktor curls around Yuuri. They spend the rest of the day together, ignoring responsibilities and packing.

 

Which is why,  perhaps, Viktor blames himself for what happens next.

 

~

 

It starts on the long-haul flight to home-- Hasetsu home. Later, Viktor will realize that it had started much earlier. But Yuuri has a bad habit of not communicating things he think will cause a problem. 

 

Not that having a baby is a problem.

 

Having a baby on an international flight is a problem.

 

“No--No-no.. It hurts.” Yuuri gasped. Viktor thanks every higher power and search engine that he paid for business class. Even one image of Yuuri in labor in economy makes Viktor’s skin crawl and back ache.

 

“You can do this,” Viktor said into Yuuri’s ears. 

 

“I want to get off,” Yuuri keens, his hands in a white-knuckle grip on Viktor’s.

 

“We’re over the ocean, love.” Viktor sighed, the words bitter. That, or over uninhabited tundra. Russia is big.

 

“How long have you been having contractions?” One of the flight attendant knelt next to Yuuri. Another one hooks curtains onto the overhead bins, sectioning off their seats.

 

“Um---ah--” Yuuri grinds his teeth. “Since… two in  the morning?”

 

The flight attendant repeats it in Russian on the satellite phone, before her smile flattens a little.

 

“Can you remove his trousers?” She switched back to English, gaze pointedly directed at Viktor.

 

“What?” Yuuri barked,  chewing on his bottom lip.

 

“It’s about time to push, sir,” Another flight attendant pushed back the curtains, carrying a tool box sized first aid kit.  “We won’t be able to divert for another thirty minutes.”

 

“Why do I have to take my pants off?” Yuuri sounded panicked, but he doesn’t resist when Viktor gently moves his sweatpants and boxers down off of his hips.

 

“You’re delivering the baby momentarily, sir.” Somehow, Viktor notices the flight attendants hands shake despite her calm tone.

 

“Yuuri, I’m here,” Viktor said, sinking to the floor with Yuuri when he crumbles, cushioning his mate from the rough carpet.

 

It’s hard to hear Yuuri cry, even though Viktor knows that its harder for him with the pain. Viktor knows Yuuri is trying to desperately hold it back.

 

He is suspiciously quiet at the last push, relaxing into Viktor’s chest. Yuuri’s eyes meet Viktor’s, his forehead damp and sticky with sweat.

 

The baby cries at the same time Viktor does.

 

He can’t gather the words to joke with Yuuri about a lifelong aeroflot sponsorship when their child is handed to them, wrapped up in an airplane blanket. She’s not quite clean, and has the smushed face of a newborn, but Viktor immediately loves her. She has Yuuri’s nose and eyebrows, and a soft wisp of hair shades lighter than Yuuri’s. 

 

“She has your mouth,” Yuuri whispered in awe. More airplane blankets arrive, as if the attendants are at a loss of what to do.

 

“She reminds me  a little of Yakov,” Viktor grinned.

 

“Ah, when he goes red from yelling?” All the pain is forgotten, and Yuuri is enamored with stroking the babies cheek.

 

“I love her,” Yuuri answered.

 

“More than me?” Viktor teases, but Yuuri doesn't answer.  He just melts further against Viktor’s body.


End file.
